


Adventures in Cooking

by orphan_account



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-14
Updated: 2008-06-14
Packaged: 2019-06-14 11:25:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15387747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Fuuka needs help cooking. Fate has ordained that Shinji help out.Mostly gen-ish, mild Shinji/Aki.





	Adventures in Cooking

“I heard you were good at cooking, Shinjiro-senpai,” Fuuka said one afternoon after school.

Shinjiro, who was lounging on the couch, looked up from the TV to see Fuuka standing with her schoolbag in one hand. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I wanted to try making something new today, so I was hoping you'd help me out.”

Minato, who was sitting on the couch doing homework, suddenly looked a little green around the gills. How strange.

Fuuka didn't talk to Shinjiro often, and he was rather surprised at her request. “I've got something to do tonight.” He looked back at the TV.

“Oh.” She seemed disappointed. “Another time then.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

As it turned out, Shinjiro's plans did not pan out and he ended up coming back to the dorm early. He was planning to just go to his room and sleep early when he walked by the kitchen and smelled something like chicken wafting out of the room.

Stopping by the doorway, he peered inside. Fuuka was there, humming away merrily to herself with her apron strapped on. Mixing bowls, measuring cups, an open carton of milk, a bag of flour and a carton of eggs were only a few of the items strewn around on the kitchen table and on the counter.

 _Not like I_ care _or anything, but –_ “What are you making?” Shinjiro asked.

“Oh!” She jumped a little, mixing bowl in hand, dropping a spoon. “I didn't see you there, Shinjiro-senpai.” Before he had a chance to reply, she bent over to pick up the spoon. “Five-second rule,” she said to herself as she popped the spoon back into the bowl. She turned back to Shinjiro. “I'm making a pie!”

“What kind of pie?”

She beamed at him. Cooking seemed to put her in a good mood. “Lemon meringue pie!”

 _Then why does it smell like chicken in here?_  Shinjiro wondered.

Shinjiro was just about to make a strategic retreat when Junpei strolled in, giving Shinjiro a clap on the back – “Shinjiro-senpai!” – before continuing his beeline for the fridge. He rooted around through its contents as he spoke. “So you're helping Fuuka with her cooking, that's cool.”

Dammit. He was stuck now.

Shinjiro had maintained for many years that cooking is very simple as long as you're not a complete retard and just follow the damn instructions. Once you know enough about existing recipes,  _then_  you can improvise.

Fuuka didn't seem to understand this. “You mean I can't use curry, Shinjiro-senpai?”

“No.” In order to not get flour on his jacket, Shinjiro had removed it and placed it carefully to the side. Before – hell, that was years ago now – he had had a very nice, manly apron that he could wear quite safely without fear of being mocked. The Iwatodai dorm kitchen sadly lacked such a manly apron. The one Fuuka had presented him with was thankfully not pink (Fuuka did seem to be more of a blue and green sort of girl), but despite the fact that pink is for girls and blue was  _supposed_ to be for boys, this blue apron was... well... rather frilly. And cute. And it said 'kiss the chef' on the front. Shinjiro had sworn up and down that he would never,  _ever_ wear an apron that said 'kiss the chef' on it, but this time he really hadn't been able to say no.

“I think it would give the pie more flavour.” She looked thoughtful.

Shinjiro sighed. “You can't put savoury spices in a sweet dish. It almost always goes wrong.”

“If you say so.” She looked back at her mixing bowl. A pinging sound came from the oven. “Ah! The crust!” She jumped, spinning around to get to the stove, her elbow connecting with a bag of flour as she turned.

Some things are unavoidable, and Shinjiro was quite keenly aware of this. He spent a lot of time thinking about the things that he couldn't prevent or control, waiting for them, preparing for them. He liked to think he could stand still and look Fate square in the eyes – and so stand still he did. Shinjiro saw it coming, and was helpless to do anything. He stood frozen as his life flashed before his eyes and the bag of flour came raining down on him like a very short, warm blizzard.

Of course Akihiko had to pick exactly that moment to walk in. “You look pale, Shinji,” he commented, unable to hide the grin on his face. “Are you sure you've been eating enough lately?”

Shinjiro scowled, then sneezed. “I'm laughing so hard,” he said before bending over to pick up the bag and what little remained of the flour.

Fuuka was flustered. “I'm so sorry, Shinjiro-senpai, I didn't mean to –” she whipped around again – “Oh, the crust...”

“Is there a broom around here?” Shinjiro asked as he put the flour bag on the table.

“Yeah, it's back there in the closet.” Akihiko jabbed a thumb behind himself. “But you might want to take care of yourself, first.” He waved a hand at his friend, who was still as white as a ghost. Shinjiro started brushing off his front before he noticed that his hands were hovering over the word 'kiss' on the apron. He decided to focus on his hair instead.

They cleaned up the flour and got the crust out of the oven, and Fuuka began pouring the meringue into the crust as Shinjiro sat back, confident that she couldn't possibly screw  _this_  part up. Akihiko stayed as well, watching the scene from a safe distance as he sat on the counter near the wall.

Fuuka beat the egg whites and managed to keep most of the white in the bowl and off her face. When the pie came out of the oven for the last time, it actually looked... good.

“I can't wait for it to cool,” Fuuka said once the finished product was on the table. “I'll go ask everyone if they want a piece.” She rushed out of the kitchen in a fit of domestic glee.

“I'm amazed,” Akihiko said once she was out of earshot. “This actually looks good.”

Shinjiro looked at the pie. “Why shouldn't it be?”

Akihiko have Shinjiro a sideways look. “You've... never tasted Fuuka's cooking before, have you.”

Shinjiro gave Akihiko a look that said, _'of course I haven't, you idiot'_ before he reached around to untie his apron. He was glad to be done with the thing. He pulled on the string.

...he pulled again.

...he pulled harder.

The apron was stuck. “What the hell...?” Shinjiro couldn't see what he was doing, but he fumbled with and picked at the strings anyway. What kind of crazy knots had Fuuka done this thing up in? He turned to show Akihiko his back. “Help me with this.”

Akihiko slid off his perch at the counter to stand behind Shinjiro. He peered at the knots. “This is... interesting.”

“Just untie it.”

“I can't.”

Shinjiro turned around to face Akihiko again. “What do you mean, you can't?!”

Akihiko crossed his arms and looked innocently into a far corner of the room. “It's just too hard for me. I can't undo those knots.”

Slowly, it began to dawn on him. “Where's a pair of scissors.” Shinjiro started rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen.

“You can't do that!” Akihiko grabbed Shinjiro's arm. “That's Fuuka's apron. You can't just cut it up.”

“I'll buy her a new goddamned apron.” Shinjiro continued to search for the scissors. “Ha!” He found the implement he was after and reached around to cut the apron strings, but again Akihiko stopped him.

“Don't be such a dick,” Akihiko snapped.

 _I don't want everyone in the dorm to see me wearing this apron!_  Shinjiro fumed. But he couldn't say that. “Fine, have it your way.” He slammed the scissors back in the drawer before stepping back to lean against the table, arms crossed.

“Come on, Shinji, it's not that bad,” Akihiko said with a grin. “I think it looks rather cute on you.”

“...Cute.”

“When you're crossing your arms I can't see the text on the front.” Akihiko leaned in, still grinning fit to split his face in two.

“Oh, shut up.”

Akihiko took those instructions to heart then, grabbing the edges of that blue frilly apron and kissing Shinji (who still tasted like flour) against the table. For all his previous grumpiness, Shinjiro did not seem to object.

So absorbed were they by their task that they did not notice the tell-tale clacking of claws against linoleum that foretold Koromaru's presence in the kitchen. The dog sniffed once, twice, before looking up at the table and the treasured pie thereon.

Now usually Koromaru was a very good dog. He knew what was people food and he was good about not eating stuff that wasn't his, but on this particular day he had gone for a very long run at the shrine. Whoever's turn it was to feed Koromaru had forgotten and there was a sad lack of kibble in his bowl. In short, he was very hungry and the pie smelled very nice.

Careful not to interrupt Shinjiro and Akihiko (they seemed to be very involved in eating each other, and Koromaru never liked to be interrupted while eating), Koromaru padded around to the opposite side of the table, jumping up and putting his paws on it. He could  _almost_ reach the pie, almost, so  _close_... but alas it was just out of reach.

Surely, at times like these, it would not be  _completely_  unforgivable to use one's Persona to reach one's object of desire. He need only use a teeny,  _tiny_  bit of Cerberus' power, just to nudge the pie a bit closer...

Unfortunately, a Persona is a power that is mostly used in battle. As such, it tends to be a bit overpowering for every day tasks. Long story short, Koromaru shoved the entire table forward, Akihiko said, “Look out!” and Shinjiro turned around just quickly enough to get a table edge in his stomach and a pie in his face.

As, one by one, all the dorm residents filtered into the kitchen to see Shinjiro standing there in a very girly apron and a faceful of pie, all he could really think was,  _Damn. This tastes like chicken._

 


End file.
